12 Daves of Christmas

by Juliet Madison

  ‘But he didn’t die in the war?’

  ‘Apparently not. I thought he had, everyone did. They said he was missing in action, presumed dead. And then when the war ended and he failed to return after several months, well, after a while I had to decide whether to keep hoping or let go and start living my life.’

  ‘So what happened to him?’

  ‘That’s the thing, I don’t know. I’ve tried to find out where he is and what happened, but the wretched administration up there,’ she pointed to the heavens, ‘leaves a bit to be desired.’ She crossed her arms. ‘All they could tell me was that my Dave Smith had not passed through the pearly gates. But to find out more information requires more manpower and paperwork, and they put me on a three-month waiting list. Three months! While Harry and Lorna have their happily ever after, I’m left to twiddle my thumbs and wait it out. I’ll be putting in a complaint when I get back, you mark my words.’ She gave a curt nod. ‘But that will probably take another three months to process! They’re utterly swamped up there, what with all the deaths. And the queues; there are more crowds than a Buddy Holly concert, let me tell you.’

  I didn’t know whether to laugh at what I was hearing or be frustrated along with her. Grandma wasn’t known for being shy, and if she had something to say about something that was bothering her, she’d say it.

  ‘How do we know where to look? I mean, do you have any idea where he might be?’

  ‘I met him when we were living in Berrinda. He was passing through with his soldier friends for a camping trip to celebrate his eighteenth birthday. When he told me he was going off to war, he said that if he returned safe and sound he’d want nothing more than to settle down in a place like Berrinda, or one of the other small towns on the south coast. That’s all I’ve got to go on.’

  ‘That’s a start, I guess. He might be in the phone book. What did you say his last name was?’

  ‘Smith.’

  I sighed. She had to go fall in love with someone who had an extremely common first and last name!

  As if reading my thoughts, Grandma said, ‘Shame his name wasn’t Reginald Liktenblacht or something easier to find.’ She shrugged and grinned.

  My computer pinged with an incoming email. I got up and peered at the screen. It was from my editor, asking how the finishing touches were coming along on my manuscript. Finishing touches? I dared not tell her that I was still dealing with the beginning touches. But somehow, I would get it all done by the fourteenth. I had to. Dizziness swayed my body a little and I gripped the desk.

  ‘Are you okay, munchkin?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m just a bit ... overwhelmed, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh, darling, take a seat and rest yourself. I’m sorry to barge in here like this, but when I sensed you calling me with your heart I knew I had to come. But then I go and blurt out a million things and ask you to drop everything and help me find my lost love from seventy-odd years ago!’

  ‘No, it’s okay, it’s really quite ... exciting, to see you again. To know you’re okay. But I do need a little time to process all of this.’

  ‘Of course, dear. How about we continue our discussion tomorrow, once you’ve had a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast.’

  I nodded, though I doubted I would sleep tonight, and tomorrow’s hearty breakfast was sure to be a double-strength coffee and a croissant from the bakery down the street.

  ‘Eggs are what you need, my sweet. A good old three-egg omelette with mushrooms and tomato and bacon and a side of whole-wheat toast.’

  Could she actually read my mind?

  ‘And if you have trouble sleeping, a shot of brandy often does the trick. Used to give that to your mother when she was a young’un.’

  Hmm, well that explains a lot. The woman was never without a drink in hand.

  ‘So until then,’ Grandma said, and the enormity of what she was asking me finally sunk in.

  ‘Um, Grandma, this search could take a while. And you know I’d do anything for you, I’m just a bit worried about managing my time. The thing is, I have a book due in two weeks and heaps left to write, and then I have to create a proposal for another book by the sixth of January and I haven’t even thought of an idea yet.’ I rubbed my temples.

  ‘So let me guess, you were planning on working through the holiday season and taking advantage of the fact that there’s no big family celebration this year, what with everyone else off gallivanting overseas?’

  Yep. That, and getting up close and personal with my couch, a never-ending supply of chips, and back-to-back episodes of Gilmore Girls.

  ‘Abby Solomon, I will not let you take a raincheck on Christmas!’ She planted her hands on her hips, her white polyester slacks rippling from the effort.

  ‘I’m not!’ I protested. ‘I’m just having a quiet one, that’s all.’

  ‘Quiet my heaving bosoms! You will make the most of this Christmas, young lady, while you’re still young and healthy.’ She shook her finger scoldingly. ‘In fact, I have the perfect idea.’ She sat next to me on the couch. ‘It will do you the world of good to get away from this cramped apartment for a while, out of this noisy city, and into the fresh air of, say,’ she tapped her finger on her chin with exaggeration, ‘the south coast! Yes. Take a road trip for the month of December, stay in a few motels along the way, join in some small-town Christmas festivities, and in between your writing sessions you can help me look for Dave. What do you say?’

  ‘But, Grandma, that will cost a lot of money, and many places will already be booked out for Christmas.’

  ‘Then you better get organised, missy. Make some calls, pack your bags. Who knows, it might even help you with your next book idea.’ She smiled. ‘And as for money, what do you think your inheritance is for, saving for a rainy day?’

  ‘But I was going to use some of it to buy new bookcases for your books.’

  ‘The money I left you will pay for much more than a few bookcases, and I’d like you to use it. Spend it on experience and travel, on living your life, not just on things.’

  I twisted my lips to the side and considered what she was proposing. I was settled and content at home, with all my stuff around me. But I was also feeling a bit flat. Maybe a change of scenery could do me good. A warm, summery, coastal Christmas instead of a busy, noisy, city Christmas. I glanced at Grandma Charlotte, who had wandered over to where I’d left the watch and letter on my desk. My heart ached when she tried to pick up the letter but couldn’t. The thought of not knowing what happened to the one you loved was beyond comprehension. Oh, the sadness and frustration she must have felt. If there was a chance I could find out what happened to this man called Dave, I had to take it. Then Grandma could rest in peace, or whatever they did in that admin-overloaded place she referred to.

  I walked towards her, looked into her crystal-blue eyes, and saw the heart of a young woman longing for her soulmate. A young woman who had lived her life without any answers. ‘I’ll do it, Grandma,’ I said. ‘I’ll search for Dave and I won’t stop till I find him.’

  Chapter 4

  The next morning I went for a brisk walk among the crowds to make sure I was still in the land of the living. Had I imagined it? The line between reality and fiction could become a little blurred when I was working on a book. But I hadn’t: Grandma Charlotte graced me with her presence when I stopped at a café to order coffee and a croissant. She forced encouraged me to order a hearty omelette instead, so to avoid having a debate about breakfast choices with the invisible elderly woman next to me in front of other patrons, I obliged.

  ‘Now, on to business,’ she said, back at my apartment. She went to grab the phone book. ‘Oh drat! I keep forgetting.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got it.’ I opened the phone book to find the surname, Smith. ‘I bet you wish I was a cop, hey Grandma, then I could probably find out about Dave in a few clicks.’

  ‘Well, in this moment yes, but in general, no. You know how thrilled I am that you’re an author and d
oing something you love. Oh, I’m so proud, I wish I could give you one last hug!’ She brought her hand up as though to rub my back, and I smiled softly.

  I wish that too.

  To avoid getting teary I focused my attention on the page in front of me. The Smiths took up almost two pages. D, D ... I ran my finger down the page until I found the required initial, then counted. ‘There are forty-nine D Smiths listed.’

  ‘What if he’s not listed, has a private number? Or what if he’s in a nursing home?’

  ‘How about we go through all the phone book Daves first, and if we don’t have any luck, I’ll call all the other Smiths in case the listing is under his wife’s name, and then I’ll call around the nursing homes and look up the electoral roll. And if still no luck, I could always put an ad in one of the newspapers, even try something on the internet. Maybe family or friends will see it and lead us to him.’

  ‘I never even thought of all that. Gosh, you really are resourceful.’

  ‘Part of my job description.’ I smiled. I grabbed a yellow highlighter and marked a vertical line in the margin beside all the potential candidates. ‘I wonder how many of these are Daves?’

  ‘Only one way to find out.’ Grandma pointed to my phone.

  ‘So, um, what do I say? “Hi, is Dave there? Or David?”’

  ‘Guess so. And if they say no then you apologise for calling the wrong number and move on to the next.’

  ‘And if there is a Dave?’

  Grandma looked at the ceiling, as though asking Heaven for advice. But it would probably take three months to arrive. ‘Hmm, perhaps you should pretend you have a bad line, or hang up and pretend you got cut off, or fake a sudden emergency and tell them you’ll call back another time.’

  ‘But don’t you want me to ask a few questions to find out if one of these is your Dave?’

  ‘Yes, but it might be best to determine that in person. I’ll know him when I see him. At least I hope I will, after all these years.’ She looked upwards again, and I imagined that if Heaven had on-hold music it would be something peaceful or joyous sounding, interspersed with a recorded message saying ‘thank you for your patience, your enquiry is very important to us, one of our deceased volunteers will be with you as soon as possible’.

  ‘How about,’ she said, looking at me again, ‘if there is a Dave there, we end the call in one way or another, underline his address in the book, and we pay each one a visit. If we have a list of potential Daves, we can plan our road trip based on each of their locations and work our way down the coast.’

  ‘Now who’s resourceful, huh?’ I winked.

  ‘Well, who do you think you got that trait from?’ She winked back.

  * * *

  Six phone calls later we hadn’t yet found a Dave. Surely there’d be at least one among all those Ds. I dialled a D Smith from Belle Cove and waited several rings until a woman’s voice answered.

  ‘Hi, I was wondering if Dave would be there?’

  ‘He’s not here right now,’ she answered.

  I was about to repeat my ‘sorry, I must have the wrong number’ spiel from the previous calls when my mind registered what she’d actually said. He’s not here right now. Meaning, he was there at some point, and would be again. Meaning, a Dave lived there.

  My eyes widened and I flashed a hopeful smile at Grandma. ‘Um, that’s okay. Will he be home sometime tomorrow?’ If he was, he could be our first stop on our way down the coast.

  ‘Yes, but not until after four. Sorry, who’s calling?’

  Potentially, the granddaughter of his long-lost lover. ‘Just a friend. I’ll ah, call back then. Thanks!’ I hung up and underlined Dave Smith from Belle Cove in the phone book, then pumped my fist in the air. ‘Bingo, Grandma!’

  She rubbed her hands together and brightened. In as much a way as a ghost could.

  Funnily enough, there was another Dave Smith in Belle Cove. But he was reported to be ‘where he always is’ which upon further questioning I discovered was ‘the pub’. A couple of calls later a Dave from Berrinda was ‘sleeping at present’, and I declined the offer from the woman who answered the phone to leave my name and number. I got into a rhythm and worked my way through the phonebook with the speed and efficiency of a telemarketer, minus the scripted responses and open-ended questions to persuade them to stay on the line and spend their hard-earned cash, welfare benefits, or for all I knew, dirty money.

  Several more Daves were found, and on calling a D Smith from Umbarra I was met with the soft, caring voice of an elderly man: ‘Hello from the lovely town of Umbarra.’ Was he working for south coast tourism?

  ‘Hello from the vibrant inner city hub of Sydney,’ I responded with a smile.

  ‘Ah, Sydney. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been there. Too crowded and busy for me, I’m afraid. What can I do for you, my city caller?’

  ‘I’m looking for a Dave Smith?’

  ‘You’ve found him,’ he replied matter-of-factly.

  I shot a raised-eyebrow glance at Grandma. Could this be him? He sounded the right age and seemed really nice. Now what? This was the first Dave who’d actually answered, the rest were either not home, busy, had an answering machine, or the person who answered had said, ‘Yes, I’ll just get him. Dave!’ while I quickly hung up, underlining more D Smiths in the phone book.

  ‘Oh. Hi. Hi … Dave.’

  Grandma fiddled with the pearls around her neck.

  ‘Hi, yourself. To whom am I speaking with and to what do I owe this pleasure?’

  What to do, what to do? ‘My name is Abby. I’m, um …’ Think, Abby, think! Or fake a bad line and hang up! ‘Doing a survey on behalf of …’ I eyed Grandma for help but she just ran her finger across her neck again, this time to get me to hang up since we had achieved what we needed to do—confirmed another Dave Smith. ‘… The retirees consumer association, and was wondering if you’d be willing to answer some questions about your purchasing behaviours?’ What the hell? Grandma Charlotte rolled her eyes and sunk onto the couch.

  ‘I’d be delighted!’ And he actually sounded it. Oops. I felt bad, deceiving this charming old man.

  ‘Okay, um, how often do you purchase, um, lottery tickets?’

  ‘Once a week without fail. You’ve got to be in it to win it, I say. Not that I’d have much time left in my life to make use of any winnings, but it would be nice to help out the family and some charities.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Sorry, dear, but I must make a quick trip to the lavatory. Hold on a few moments, will you?’

  I was about to say not to worry and we could continue our survey another time, giving me an excuse to end the call, but the sound of the phone being placed down stopped me. I didn’t want him to return to find I’d hung up. He sounded too nice and as though he wanted a good chat. As I waited, I jotted down a few notes in my character file. He could be a good secondary character in an upcoming book. A talkative, kind-hearted, perhaps lonely, neighbour or grandfather. Or, the long-lost lover of my grandmother, I reminded myself.

  ‘Sorry for the interruption, where were we?’ he asked on returning. ‘Oh, hang on, dear. Not again.’ The phone clunked down again and I furrowed my brow. He was going back to the bathroom?

  ‘My prostate is the bane of my existence,’ he chuckled a minute later. ‘Fire away.’

  I asked him a few more questions about various consumer items, then wound up the call by telling him I had to make another one and thanking him for his time. ‘Any time,’ he said.

  ‘Grandma!’ I said, when my first attempt yielded no response as she feigned sleep from boredom on my couch, her mouth hanging open as she fake-snored.

  She shot up. ‘Oh, finished being a market research expert, have we?’ she asked. ‘Took your time!’

  ‘Hey! Who’s taking time out of their busy schedule to help you, huh?’ I wagged my finger at her.

  She smiled. ‘I know, I know. And I’m grateful.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Now, how’d we go?’


  ‘All done, all Ds have been accounted for. I’ll now transfer the underlined Daves and their addresses into a list in order of where their town is along the coast.’ I opened a map on my computer and created the Dave Itinerary.

  Grandma looked over my shoulder. ‘Ha!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘There are twelve Daves.’

  ‘And your point is?’ I raised my eyebrows.

  ‘Don’t you know what day it is tomorrow?’

  ‘The first of December. And still I ask … your point is?’

  ‘The first day of Christmas. Or, the first day of the month of Christmas at least. You have heard of that song, haven’t you, “The Twelve Days of Christmas”?’

  ‘Of course I have.’

  ‘On our list we have Twelve Daves of Christmas. How appropriate! We can visit one Dave each day, over twelve days!’

  I shrugged with a smile. It was kind of amusing having Twelve Daves of Christmas to visit. ‘But wouldn’t you rather we visit as many as possible over a shorter period of time, to find him sooner?’

  She threaded her fragile, bony fingers together. ‘I think it might be better to do it over twelve days. It’ll be like a little adventure for you and me. And we’ll get to spend more time together, won’t that be delightful?’

  My heart lurched. I could tell that although Grandma was desperate to find her missing Dave, she also wanted to enjoy one last adventure while she had the chance. Who knew how long she’d be able to hang around in this transitionary state? And I didn’t want to think about what would happen after we found him, if we found him. She’d have no more need to stay here and would no doubt return to the overcrowded hotel in the heavens. I’d have to say goodbye all over again, and the more she hung around the more I knew how hard that was going to be.

  I walked over to the couch and sat next to her. ‘You’ve got yourself a deal. Twelve Daves over twelve days it shall be.’